


Minutes

by kloperslegend



Series: Seconds [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kloperslegend/pseuds/kloperslegend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to 'Seconds.' Helena and Myka continue to explore the boundaries of their relationship on a rather enlightening jog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: References to Sexual Violence  
> Warnings: References to sexual violence.
> 
> AUTHOR NOTE
> 
> This story is many things – this story is a day in the life, this story is a bit rocky, this story is emotionally jerky (as all relationships on the cusp of epiphany are), this story is a character study, this story is slow at times, then fast; this story is a bit different than most Bering and Wells, but most of all, this story is, as all my work, a deeply thought out narrative.
> 
> As such, I feel I must warn you that I've departed from many of my typical writing nuances here, and would greatly appreciate your feedback. I'm rather uncertain about it myself and it took a great deal of prodding from a friend to convince me to finally post it, uncertainties aside. So do express your opinions, good and bad.
> 
> Additionally, in this story I have really tried to depart from the caricature of Helena that so many authors fall into. I believe that Helena is human, and that the suave confidence she emits is a mask for a deeply emotional and empathetic person. I intentionally wrote her in this way.
> 
> This story is a sequel to my work, 'Seconds.'

HG peeked up from her reading of choice – E.E. Cummings, at the surprising insistence of Claudia – to watch Myka fidget on the brown loveseat for what must have been the fiftieth time that afternoon. It was less that Mr. Cummings was uninteresting (indeed, Helena was decidedly impressed at his innovative use of the word as a spacial object), and more that the inventor had never seen the agent so restless. Myka, normally content reading – still – for hours on end, was having a remarkably difficult time concentrating.

As if to prove her point, Myka rose, sloppily bookmarking her place in The Tempest before rushing from the sitting room. Completely unabashed, Helena leaned over to watch her go, eyes wide with honest intrigue. Myka returned just as quickly, carrying what Helena had been informed were "tennis shoes," though she had never seen Myka play lawn tennis at all, and didn't understand why special shoes would be necessary, anyway.

Myka, clad only in sweats and quick pull-over, huffed. "And what are you grinning about?"

The smirk on Helena's face was wiped clean in a second, to be replaced by a small frown: She hadn't known she was smiling. "Ah – nothing." She returned to her Cummings before sneaking another look. Myka was wrestling her left shoe on, first two fingers slipped in the back and emphatically pulling. "Going for a match of tennis then? In this weather?"

"What?" Myka looked up completely confused, and HG realized immediately she had made another faux-pas.

"No, I mean – ah – Are those not tennis shoes?" Myka's confusion dissolved in an instant, replaced by a fit of laughing. Helena flushed an embarrassed shade of red. No matter how many times she became confused by the vernacular of this century, laughter never failed to completely humiliate her. It must have shown on her face, because Myka immediately stopped.

Her mouth twitched, still smiling, as she explained to the other woman. "I'm sorry, Helena. I know you hate being laughed at." Helena dipped her head, self-consciously scratching the back of her neck. Myka continued. "'Tennis shoes' are just a generic term for shoes used in athletic situations." She paused, thinking about it for a second. "Though I couldn't tell you the etymology of the phrase."

"So… you're not playing lawn tennis, then."

Myka smiled warmly. "No. I'm going for a run, and you're welcome to come if you like. With no pings for the past two weeks, and being finally caught up on inventory for once…" She let the sentence trail off as her eyes wandered the room before settling back on her reading partner. "I'm going stir-crazy!"

Helena laughed. "And that I can understand, darling." After all, Victorian women were expected to be proper ladies and contain themselves, no matter how 'stir-crazy' they became. Agent Wells stood and kicked off the slippers Myka had given her as an early birthday present, assuming she'd need to put on socks. "I would love to accompany you on your run. Though I'm afraid I haven't any tennis shoes."

"Okay! Awesome." Myka stood, finally done tying them up, and put her hands on her hips. She remarked, wagging her finger, "I bet Claud' has some you could borrow. You guys are about the same shoe size, right?"

"Right," Helena agreed dryly, remembering the Halloween Claudia had borrowed her clothes so she could dress up as the "impeccably fashionable Wells." Boots included.

"Awesome!" Myka said again, before seeking out the younger woman. Helena stood, bookmarking the work of poetry. Myka poked her head around the corner. "Claud says she has some. You might want to change into something a little looser."

Helena inclined her head in agreement as she passed the taller woman to head up the stairs. Myka continued behind her, "Those yoga pants you got from Pete would work. Or you could borrow a pair of my sweat pants." The Victorian was happy she wasn't facing Myka when the small smirk hit her face. Little did Myka know, every piece of clothing she lent to Helena ended up in the back of her closet, never to be returned. It was the only way she could inconspicuously have constant access to Myka's scent, and if she was ever found out, she could blame it on her tendency to clutter.

Knowing how much Myka valued her sweat pants, Helena let out a small sigh. She would never get away with storing a pair of those. "Thank you Myka, but I'm sure the yoga pants will suffice."

She went up and changed, and had just decided to change her shirt when there was a quick rap at the door. "Hey Helena," Myka began as she came in, "I got the shoes from Claudia…" Helena turned around, only in her yoga pants and bra. Myka's ears were a furious red, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "I'll just leave them here for you." She dropped the two tennis shoes inside the door and closed it quickly before Helena had a chance to say anything.

Outside the door, Myka leaned against the wall, pondering the vision of Helena in black lace, yoga pants gliding over toned thighs. She gulped, scratching the trim on the door with her finger nail, debating whether or not to inform Helena that a sports bra would be more appropriate. Does she already know that? Myka thought, biting her lip. No, of course not! She condescended; they didn't have sports bras in the late 1800's… did they? Well. She could always pawn it off her concern to good friendship. Wait – pawn off? She didn't even allow herself to follow that train of thought. Helena was a proper, mature woman, and wasn't the type to tease her just for being walked in on while changing. Plus, their jog would suck if Helena had to stop to keep readjusting.

She opened the door again to see Helena in the middle of changing to a sports bra, and shut it. She could practically feel her ears burn at the irony. "Uh, sorry!" She yelled, "Just wanted to make sure you planned on wearing a sports bra!" Myka could hear a laugh from the other room. The door opened moments later, Helena dressed in her yoga pants and a light jacket. She was grinning furiously as she began to pull her hair back.

"So you decided you would check on me yourself?" Myka gulped. Helena's remark was awfully amused for it to be simply innocent. With a final snap of the hair tie, Helena let her hands drop to her hips, pony-tail swinging in the background.

"Well, no, I - Uh…" Finally Myka just stopped sputtering. She poked her two pointer fingers together, offering Helena a cheesy grin as an answer of its own.

Helena simply chuckled, patting Myka on the shoulder before skipping down the stairs. Truth was, Helena didn't want to think about what Myka's intentions could have been. It was better to be pessimistic, she thought, than be hopeful and sorely disappointed later. Not that she could bring herself to squash the little seedling of hope flowering within her. No, it was like a stubborn weed; no matter how many times she ground it out, it kept growing back. She frowned suddenly, disappointed she had compared something associated with Myka to a weed. Myka could never be a weed.

"Okay." The agent in question exhaled, descending the stairs behind her. "Ready to go?"

"Yes!" Helena enthused, realizing that she too was genuinely excited to be up and moving. "You know, you're quite right. It's been a bit too long since we've exerted ourselves properly."

Myka flashed her one of those dazzling smiles as she opened the door. "Glad you agree!"

They walked outside together in the afternoon sunlight. "So where will we be running to?" Helena asked, hands on her hips, enjoying the crisp autumn air.

"Um," Myka wrestled to pull her curly hair into a reasonable pony-tail. "I was thinking of going through this nice trail I found the last time I went jogging." She turned and pointed to the trees behind the B&B before bending down to stretch lightly. "If you go through the trees there, there's a trail that goes through a field and eventually to another wooded area." Myka looked up to see Helena giving her a dashing smile. She couldn't help but smile softly in return. Standing, she remarked, "It's a really pretty glade, if you ask me."

"Alright," Helena said, her hand rising like a piece of cursive from her hip, gesturing in the direction of the wood. Myka was always struck by how HG treated her own elegance as if it was nothing, commonplace, but she didn't comment on it right then. "Lead the way," HG compelled.

Myka did, taking off at a short jog, keeping her pace modest in order to gauge the other's capability. It wasn't that she doubted Helena's athleticism, no; she was just trying to be polite. She was, after all, the noticeably taller one.

Helena kept up with all of Myka's pace changes just fine, and after about five minutes of silence, it became a little awkward. Helena quickly relieved the tension. "Do you jog often?

Myka looked over quickly, before continuing. There was just enough room on the trail for them to stand side-by-side. "Um, not really. Only when there's a lull at work. The artifacts normally keep me pretty busy." Helena gave a knowing chuckle, and Myka snorted.

As they turned a corner in the trail, finally under a heavy cover of trees, Helena continued. "Women rarely ever got to do these sorts of things in my day. Moving any semblance of quick in those dresses was an awful chore."

Myka gave another small sort, exhaling paper words. "I can imagine."

Helena glanced over. They'd established a companionable pace now, one they could both easily continue for a good while. "Is our banter disturbing you dear? We can always jog in silence if you so prefer."

"No, it's fine." Myka pondered before continuing. "It's just different. The first time I took Pete jogging he talked my ear off about things I could really care less about." They passed by an old tree stump, and Myka had to deliberately lift her feet to keep from tripping.

"Is that so?" Helena moved to the left to give Myka a bit more room as the trail thinned.

"Yeah – but it was really only to keep me from noticing he was staring at my ass." Helena looked over and Myka is grinning from ear to ear.

"A ploy that obviously failed!" They both laughed.

The laughter died down, though, and the two women huffed down the dirt track in unison before Myka moved to clarify. "It was when we were first started working together. I'm sure he wouldn't do anything like that now."

Helena was quick to reply. "I may beg to differ…" They laughed again, passing under a low overhanging branch. It disturbed their rhythm, but it took little time for them to find it again.

"Alright, with other women, maybe. But honestly? He's like the other brother I never had. It'd be weird if he tried something like that."

Helena considered this. "Peter, I think, is simply not your type. But he does make an excellent brother figure."

"Yeah."

"Have you ever had someone like that?" The question is nonchalant and without intended nuance, but Myka was genuinely curious and her interested crept out in her tone. Despite the two of them being very close, she knew little of Helena's relationships.

"Besides my own biological brother, Charles? No. And even he I had murderous thoughts about on occasion. As was the situation with my co-workers. More often than not, though, we – my co-workers and I…" Helena hesitated. "… We were more on more intimate terms."

Myka made a scrunched up face. "Yeah, you've mentioned that before. I know it's not my business, but was there a real reason for that?"

"For being intimate with all the men in my life?"

All? Myka thought. While Helena was one for hyperbole on occasion, it was never a habit she brought to serious topics of conversation. "Yeah, I mean…" She blushed. "That's sort of frowned upon now, and as far as I know, it was pretty taboo then, too… right?"

"Oh, it was never about love or even sex, darling – thought it was certainly nice to have options." She paused. "It was all about control."

"Control." Myka's voice was low. It didn't have the lilt of a question, but was one nevertheless.

Helena gave as best a shrug as she could, lifting her palms momentarily before allowing them to move with stride once more. "In a time when women were nearly powerless, we had but one true weapon – that which lay between our legs."

"Is that why Anne Lister was such a scoundrel then?" It was vaguely sarcastic and slightly heckling.

Helena snorted. "No, Miss Lister was a lust-struck trollop with no bloody sense of decency."

"I recall." Myka laughed. "You mentioned as much the last time she came up."

They paused. Helena bit her lip lightly then smiled, remembering fondly the hour she had spent along with Myka in the warehouse that day. Suspecting her companion was doing the same, she looked over with a smile. Myka, however, had a pouting lip and a furrow growing between her eyes.

"What?" Helena asked, smile now gone. There was a beat. "I implore you to not be revolted by my actions, however seemingly regrettable."

Myka shook her head jerkily, eyes shifting to the sky before she glanced over to Helena. "I'm not revolted, Helena, I'm sad. Sad and angry that that's the sort of sacrifice you had to make to pursue your happiness."

Helena's voice was calm when she replied. "It's what we did, Myka. And besides, the body is merely a prison for the mind. It was but a means to an end, darling."

Myka looked down at the dirt as they continued, silent.

"Darling…" It's a tiny plea.

And suddenly, it all came out. "You can't stop me from being mad about it, Helena," Myka let the words snarl from her lips, jaggedness only exaggerated by the jolt of her feet hitting the ground. "It pisses me off you had to resort to sex just so you could live the life you wanted."

Helena looked over at Myka, concerned. "Well it's not as if it was hugely debilitating, Myka. The only real side effect was the development of a… reputation, of sorts. But it didn't interfere with my research, my studies, or even what little social life I had."

"And love?"

"Love?"

"Yes, did it ever interfere with love? I mean, I know of I was in a relationship with someone that… Well, I'd be really jealous. Understanding, but jealous."

"I had no such love, except for my Christina. Though I suppose in this respect the love of a child, however precious, counts for little."

Myka raised her eyebrow, questioning. "But Christina…"

"Was the byproduct of an unfortunate act of violence, which I made sure would never happen again." Helena paused before continuing in a tone far less harsh, "Never in my life have I once regretted the consequences, though."

Myka clenched her fists, actually feeling the blood thundering through her for the first time since they'd started jogging. The fact that Helena could dismiss rape as an 'unfortunate act of violence' made her feel so many negative feelings, she wasn't even going to try to put her finger on them. Rather than comment – she seriously doubted her ability to contain an outburst – she tried to move the conversation along. "So there was no one?"

"Darling, I said many of my lovers were men, not that I had feelings for them. And the types of women I fell for were often too busy, or disinclined to such advances." She paused a moment, considering. "Not that finding women to share my bed was a problem… rather, none of them called to my spirit as they did my loins."

"They say it's better with someone you love. Sex, I mean." Myka blushed – she was still angry, but at least they were gently moving from the earlier topic.

"Yes, I've heard that," Helena responded. She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I've experienced many a thing during my bedroom forays, but I am afraid that is not one of them." It was artful, her attempt to keep the pain from her voice, but Myka picked up on it right away.

"Really?" Crestfallen, Myka looked concerned at Helena. How abysmal could this woman's life have been? No, she corrected herself, this is just what she knew, how the culture functioned, and Myka knew if there was one thing Helena detested, it was pity from those closest to her.

Helena shrugged as best she could while running. "Really. Though I hope one day to have the opportunity."

Myka looks over with a sad, small smile. "I hope so too, Helena."

"And you?" Came the inevitable inquiry, "With Sam? And… the woman? What was her name – Heather?"

They reached the clearing, trees fringing a rare meadow of grass in the South Dakota desert. Myka stopped, placing her hands on her head, and simply breathing. After a moment of silence, Myka swung her arms from her head, walking in a circle before chewing her lip and continuing.

"I don't know about you, but… do we really ever know if it was love after it's gone? After I met Sam I never felt as sure about what I felt for Heather." Myka looked away from Helena and across the small field. "And now I'm not even sure if what I felt for Sam meant anything either." Myka couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth; the bush she had vigilantly been beating around seemed to suddenly catch fire in her mind.

Helena's head whipped in Myka's direction, sensing the gravity of what was coming. What? That was a completely different train of thought than the last time they had discussed Sam. Clearly someone had been doing some thinking. "Have you… met someone then?"

Myka didn't turn her head as she answered. "I'm… I'm not sure."

Helena moved a bit closer then, touching Myka's shoulder lightly. "Myka…"

She turned her head sharply, high cheekbones glinting in the sunlight. Helena's breath caught, suddenly far more interested in the forest in her beloved's eyes than the one surrounding her. She glanced at Myka's parted lips before returning the level-headed gaze Myka offered her. Then, with a kindest of sighs, Helena lifted herself on her tiptoes and planted the most tender of kisses on Myka's cheek; stealing the smallest of affections before Myka could admit to giving them to anyone else.

Myka shivered at the touch, closing her eyes when soft lips made contact to her skin. "Helena…"

The touch was gone, then, as quick as it came, and Myka opened her eyes just to make sure Helena was still there. Unlike her confidence, convictions, and the air in her lungs, Helena was.

And she had one arm across her chest holding the other close to her side, looking down at the ground and somewhat despondent. Even covered in sweat and undulating with nerves, Helena wore her sly misery like a jeweled crown; high culture and dark splendor. Feeling Myka's gaze, she looked up and began fiddling with her locket.

"I want it to be you." Helena said, before looking down and gritting her teeth.

Myka didn't know what to say, mouth still slightly agape. "Be… me?"

"To be the one that proves it's better when you're in love." She threw her head back, eyebrows raised in astonishment with herself. She had just admitted her desire to take Myka Bering to bed. Out loud. In her presence. A bitter laugh escaped like a retch from her throat. "But if you've found someone else, then I wish you the best." She turned to her then, and Myka had never seen something so dark radiate a feeling so light. "I really only wish for your happiness."

Myka, paralyzed in uncertainty, just looked down.

Helena sighed. "Alas, I digress. I can see I'm making you uncomfortable." She wiped tears from her eyes – tears Myka hadn't even noticed, she admitted abysmally – and made a half-hearted attempt to clean herself up.

As Myka watched Helena from across the small trail widening, she seriously doubted her ability to hand herself over: To present herself in a nice neat package to the one she cared for without her bleeding feelings staining the ground; without one or both of them losing something precious in the process. To give herself to someone at this point in her life – Was it even possible? Besides that, this was Wells, who knew all cliché, and though it was her brother who had done all the writing, it was her mind that gave birth to a new genre of literature, a new genre of thinking.

More than that, even; more importantly, this was Helena, her friend.

"Ophelia -" she blurted. "My middle name." It was a small offering, though significant. The bane of her, she had only ever offered it up willingly once before – to Kurt Smulder, who had taken it as a further sign of her innate differentness. It was a detail she refused to hand out. Pete had had to wrest it from her; Myka hadn't even told Sam: he cheated by peeking in her personal file.

But Helena? Helena would understand her parent's ode to Shakespeare (Helena seemed to understand everything that was Myka), and so Myka would give her this small piece of herself without grief.

"Is that so?" Helena stated, interpreting the admission as a much-needed change in subject rather than the surrender Myka intended it to be. "How unfortunate."

Myka steeled herself, feeling herself close off. She straightened and wrapped her arms around herself. This was all wrong. Helena, if anyone, should have understood her confession. Myka may not have been able to put her feelings to the Victorian directly, but this was the best she could do for now, and if that wasn't enough, then she simply didn't have the daring to be more frank. She walked past Helena, exiting the clearing and heading back onto the trail.

Helena followed, took note of her discomfort, and continued. "Oh, it's a beautiful name. All I meant is, it doesn't fit you at all, darling. You're nothing like Ophelia; nowhere near as conflicted, nowhere near as insane. Actually," Helena looked to the sky, fingers spread near her temple as if the fact was obvious, "you're not insane at all, so feel free to disregard the last few sentences."

A little relieved, Myka played with a small clod of dirt near her foot and gave a tiny snort. "Maybe I'm not like that now, but there was a time…"

"Really?" Helena frowned, sincerely concerned that Myka once experienced such angst. "But, darling, it still doesn't fit. You survived. I don't care what you say, you're not an Ophelia at all. She was weak and paltry… and… You know what?" Helena asked, stopping, pointing a finger at Myka. "Youare far more like Portia."

Myka considered this, and laughed. "Ha – an heiress, wouldn't that be nice?" They both start their speed-walk again.

Helena playfully slapped Myka on the arm, irritated. "No, come now, be serious. You know as well as I that money plays but a miniscule part determining who we are, and how we define ourselves. Regardless of her wealth, Portia was gentle and strong, beautiful and forceful. A true woman to be reckoned with." Helena looked over at Myka, who was blushing with the praise she knew was coming. "Not unlike you, Myka." Helena paused. "But I think you to be far more merciful." The artificer's voice became quieter with each following sentence. "A true blessing to those around you. Even –"

Helena stopped herself midsentence and let out a sigh. She looked up a flock of geese flying in true 'v' formation above them, before adjusting her pony tail and continuing down the trail.

Myka, who had stopped, stared after her. "Even what, Helena?" she called. It took her very little time to catch up with her companion, bumping shoulders affectionately.

"Oh, it's nothing, I – " Helena stammered, wondering where and why her silver tongue had left her in this time of need. Myka realized whatever the other woman intended to say had been serious (Helena rarely, if ever, stammered – though it had been happening more frequently) and licked her lips before frowning.

"Helena." She said, interrupting her blabbering. "You can tell me. I'm your friend."

I'm your friend. The three most powerful words in the entire world: the three that could heal her and hurt her simultaneously, causing viscous influxes of despair and delight to swirl in the pit of her stomach. Overwhelmed, Helena felt her eyes water. This jog was becoming the epitome of their day-to-day bipolar interactions, emotions rising and falling like some abusive tide.

Concerned, Myka stepped in front of Helena, effectively halting her. "Hey…" she started, and moved to wipe the tears from Helena's eyes.

"Don't." Helena grabbed Myka's wrist, letting it go just as quickly. "I'm sorry – I just…" She paused, wrapping her arms around herself exactly where she wished Myka's could be. "You've always been such a blessing to me, and for all the pain I have wrought you, you have been merciful." Myka froze, the tone of the conversation having so suddenly turned so somber. Helena continued. "I don't… understand."

She paused again, cautiously stepping forward to enfold Myka's fingers within her own. "'The quality of mercy is not strain'd./ It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven /Upon the place beneath.'" Portia.

"You forget," Myka was quick to add, "'It is twice blest:/ It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.'"

Helena hadn't forgotten the verse, omitting it simply because she thought it inappropriate. She dipped her head in concession, but she wasn't smiling. "Perhaps, though I've been no blessing to you."

Myka shifted uneasily, and Helena knew it wasn't for lack of comfort. "Maybe not before." She hesitated before continuing meekly, "You caused me a lot of pain," Helena started to draw her hands away, but Myka only gripped them harder, continuing on, "But now, I don't know what I'd do without you." Myka bit her lip, wishing for once that she was the one good with words, that she was the one who had the prose to make it all better. "I really don't..." She drew Helena into a hug, holding the woman firmly. "So that means, don't go anywhere, okay?" If only I had the rhetoric of Portia… she thought glumly. But she didn't, and hoped her small sentiment would be enough for the lost woman in her arms. "Okay?" she asked again, pushing for an answer. Their friendship was something Myka could never risk, despite her reluctance to admit the possibility of further feelings.

Helena gave a hollow laugh, pulling back to see Myka's face. "You know I could never deny you anything, darling. But I hope you'll be somewhat more forgiving of the flaws of your friends and paramours than Portia was."

Myka scoffed. "Are you implying you're not good enough a friend for me?"

Helena merely looked down, absently fiddling with her locket.

"Helena!" Myka scolded, dipping her head to catch Helena's eye. Seeing Helena avoid her, she softened her tone. "I never thought you'd be so self-conscious…" Helena stepped back out of Myka's reach, and paced the woodland floor. Unsure what to do with her arms, Myka folded them loosely.

"That's the thing; I'm not, it's just with you, and I seem completely unable to find my wits when you're about! I never know how I ought to act or what I ought to say, or even if you actually like me or you just pity me because I'm, Oh, poor misplaced Helena, lost in a terrifying century," She had her hands in the air, waving them in time with her sarcasm. At Myka's concerned gaze, she stopped. "Oh, darling, I'm terribly sorry." Wells' hands gesticulated wildly, endorphins and nerves nearly making her point for her.

Unable to take any more of Helena's self-deprecation, she made a wild move.

"I shouldn't have forced any of this onto you," Helena raved, "And –"

–And suddenly Myka was kissing her, and Myka's arms were around her neck and in her hair. She could barely breathe or think, shaking hands barely managing to reach out and rest on her hips.

But her fear got the better of her, and she pulled from the kiss suddenly. Before Helena could say a single thing, Myka placed one finger over her lips with a soft "Hush." Swirling verdant eyes met a wave of deep brown, and they searched each other. Helena could barely stop shaking, her heart running away without her. "I told you once to get off your cross, Helena." Myka shook too, both her voice and her body quaking with the adrenaline tingeing the moment. "I'm saying it again. Stop torturing yourself, stop discounting your worth. Stop denying yourself happiness. Stop sacrificing yourself. Because if anyone should be concerned about not being good enough, it should be me." Helena shook her head no, rubbing her temple. Myka paused, gently lifting Helena's face to look her in the eyes. "But it doesn't matter," Myka normally didn't possess this sort of bravado, normally didn't do this, normally wouldn't venture so far into the cliché – but this wasn't normal anymore, and her voice wavered as she continued, forcing the words out: "because you need to know something… because 'here is the deepest secret nobody knows…'"

It was the only Cummings poem she knew.

Helena sputtered over a disbelieving laugh. Myka's cautious nature didn't let her continue reciting – crushing Helena by indicating feelings she wasn't sure would endure was the last thing she wanted to do – but that was irrelevant. She was well aware of the book Helena left in the sitting room. More importantly, Helena knew that Myka knew.

Myka forced herself not to bite her lip, doing her best to be as honest as possible. "Helena… I've… thought about us for a while… and I don't know if this will work. God," Myka choked out the word, and almost started crying too, "Our lives are so fucked up…" She cupped Helena's face in her hands, forcing her to look at her as she wiped her tears with her thumb. "But I want to try, okay? I really want to try."

With that, Myka locked lips with Helena again, knotting her fingers in the loose cloth of her jacket to keep her from escaping a second time. It was soft, and hesitant, and Helena could feel the seedling of hope augment itself inside her.

"Wait," Helena pleaded suddenly. Myka pulled back, ears burning again, convinced she had done wrong. Flushed, she tried to plant her hands in the non-existent pockets on the back of her sweatpants.

"No, it's alright, darling; It's just… I don't like to ravish a girl on the first date." Myka, lips parted, took a moment before realizing she was being teased, and that that was Helena's way of saving face. She gave HG a stern look, and punched the other woman's arm lightly.

"Ow!" Helena puckered a lip. "Not the ones I care to see again, at least," she drawled reluctantly, beat. They stared at each other in silence, each looking down at the ground before glancing at each other.

Finally, Helena broke the silence. "Well… shall we head back to Leena's, then?"

Myka nodded. "Yeah. They're probably wondering where we are by now. It's been what – thirty minutes?" The emotional impact of everything that had just happened finally hit her, and she prayed silently that they wouldn't get a ping that night.

Helena wiped her eyes once more before lacing her fingers through Myka's. "And a most enlightening thirty minutes it was."

Myka looked over at her companion, equally emotionally wrung thin, and dipped her head in agreement. "For the both of us."


End file.
